There his loft Wife he mourns in dolefulStrains, And of the Gods and there vain Giftcomplains, The fierce Sithonian Women thus defpis'd, As they the feaft of Bacchus folemniz'd,

Full of their God, and boiling with difdain, Scatter'd his bleeding Limbs through all the Plain.

From his firm Neck his gory Head thus torn, Down the fwift Stream of rapid Hebrus born, Shriekt out, Ah poor Eurydice, and dy'd, The echoing Banks Eurydice reply'd.

This faid,he plung'd into his watry World, About his Head the foaming Billows curl'd. Her anxious Son divine Cyrene chears, Here end thy Grief, fhe faid, and needless Cares:

This was the Caufe of all thy Woe,the Crime, For which the Nymphs, Companions of her prime,

Whom fhe in facred Dances us'd to lead, Among thy Bees that dire Contagion spread. With Prayers and Sacrifice their Wrath appease:

Napaan Nymhs invok'd, forgive with ease. Take four curl'd Bullocks of thy largelt breed, VVhom now the Hills of green Lyceus feed; As many untam'd Heifers; and for thefe Four Altars in their Sacred Temples raise : Then from their wounded Throats let out the Blood,

And leave their Bodies in fome fhady Wood.

K 4

2004

Soon as the ninth Aurora gilds the Skies,
To Orpheus drowzy Poppeys facrifice,
With a black Lamb; then view the Grove
again;

Eurydice, with a Calf newly flain

Thou fhalt appeafe, Without delay he goes; All the commands immediately he does: Comes to the Temple,does the Altars raife; Four mighty Bulls of wondrous bulk he flays, As many Heifers that ne'er felt the Yoke, When from the Eaft the ninth Aurora broke: He Worships Orpheus, to the Grove he goes; When lo a ftrange and wondrous Sight arofe. From the Bulls Entrails Bees were found to hum,

And met in Swarms from out the putrid Womb:

In moving Clouds to the next Tree they go, And hang like cluffer'd Grapes upon a bending Bough.

While thus of Plants, Tillage, and Herds I fung,

With Cafar's thundring Arms Euphrates rung. Juft Laws he for the willing World ordain'd; By God-like Acts his Claim to Heaven maintain'd.

Me all that while proud Naples did embrace, Fam'd for th' inglorious Arts of lazy Peace: Full of the Loves of Shepherds,bold and young, Under the Beechen Shade, thee, Tityrus, I fung.

ΟΝ

ON THE

Happy Corydon and Phillis.

Young Coridon and Phillis, &

Sat in a lovely Grove,

Contriving Crowns of Lillies, e
Repeating toys of Love,

And fomething elfe,but what I dare not name;
But as they were a playing,

She ogled fo the Swain,

It fav'd her plainly faying,

Let's kifs to ease our pain, and fomething else. A thousand times he kist her,

Laying her on the Green;
But as he further prest her
A pritty Leg was feen, and
So many Beauties viewing,
His Ardor ftill increaft,
And greater Joys purfuing,

He wander'd o'er her Breaft, and
A laft effort fhe trying
His Paffion to withstand,
Cry'd, but 'twas faintly Crying,
Pray take away your Hand, and-

Young

Young Corydon grown bolder,
The Minutes wou'd improve,
This is the time, he told her

To fhew you how I Love, and
The Nymph feem'd almost dying,
Diffolv'd in amorous Heat,
She kifs'd, and told him fighing,
My Dear, your Love is great, and
But Phillis did recover,

Much fooner than the Swain,
She blushing ask'd her Lover,
Shall we not kiss again, and
Thus Love his Revells keeping,
Till Nature at a ftand,

From talk they fell to fleeping,
Holding each other's Hand, and

On a Lady that did not love

H

Apples.

Appy our Race; and bleffed all Mankind, Had but Eve's Palate been, like yours, (refin'd, Nor meanly ftoop'd, while in her natures Pride, To taste the pooreft Fruit,that Heav'n deny'd,

But

But nought tempts Woman, more than a (Restraint,

Accefs deny, and ftrait on that they're bent;
And had your Coynefs,in her place been found,
The Devil hadftrove invain to givethe Wound.
Tho' caft his Serpents Skin, to be more fair,
Tho' drefs'd like Beau, and courted with
( an Air, į
For where Man fails, the Devil must fure

( dispair
In vain,he'd ftrove your Virgin Heart to Storm,
We'd all been fav'd,had you her part perform'd.
But fince long time, will not that change allow,
Be but a fecond Eve, and fave us now.

Ο Ν

FRUITION

One, but a Mufe in Love, can tell
The fweet tumultuous joys I feel,

No

When on Calia's Breaft I lye,
When I tremble, faint, and dye;
Mingling Kiffes with Embraces,
Darting Tongues, and joyning Faces,
Panting, ftretching, fweating, cooing,
All in the extafie, of doing.

On